TRAPPED

1

Celine

I don't know what it's like to be part of a big family. I was supposed to be, but my mother makes it sound the opposite of what I'd dream—messy, ugly and traumatising. She says that I'd be left out and abused by my fathers side of the family, by the men most of all.

I believe her. After the countless stories she's told me, I trust each word that comes out of her mouth. She tells me that this is a man's world, and that to get somewhere in it I have to be beautiful, like her. But I also can't let people take advantage of that, and people like my father and his family will.

That's why I'm especially nervous as my mother knocks on the door of the grand house. She glances at me, her expression as stern as it's always been. I look away, zeroing my attention in on the white, arched door.

I hear the twist of keys before it's pulled open, revealing a large silhouette. The tall, muscular man looks down at me, light blue eyes exactly like my own shining with a recognition that I can't return. He smiles, his lips tilting up at the corners as he ignores my mother completely.

He's my father. I know that from the pictures my mother has shown me. She used to tell me to keep away from people who looked like him.

Now she's leading me right into the lions den.

"Hi, Celine."

His voice is deep and slightly accented, but the way he must've used to talk has probably been weighed down by the years he's lived in the UK, adapting to sound like everyone else here.

I swallow the lump stuck in my throat. I don't smile—mother says that's "inviting"—as I reply: "hello."

He glances at my mother then, and I notice his sharp jaw harden. He doesn't say anything to her, returning his slightly annoyed gaze to me. He smiles again. "Do you wanna come in?"

I look at my mother. She sighs. We moved house yesterday, which apparently my father is paying for so we can be closer to him. So I can be closer to him. He's also paying her money, I think, but she hasn't told me a lot of what's going on. So she's more annoyed that usual, even though I've tried to help her out as much as I can. I guess it's just not enough.

     I turn back to my father and nod. His smile widens, and for a moment he doesn't look at all scary like he's been described to me the past eight years. He looks.. almost hopeful.

     "Alright, come on." He says, opening the door wider to give me space to walk inside. I do, my backpack heavy on my shoulder. I was told I have to put some stuff to leave here in it, for when I eventually stay over. My mother was the one to tell me that, which surprised me. I never expected her to even agree to moving here, much less letting—making would be a better word, I think—me stay in this house. Alone.

     My palms grow clammy just thinking about it. My mum will protect me now, I hope, but what about when she's not here? What will happen to me then?

     "Do you want me to show you where you'll stay?" He asks. "You can put your bag there, then we can go to the living room so you can say hi to your brothers."

"O-okay." I say quietly. I can feel my mother glare at me, her dark eyes boring into the side of my head, but I don't look at her. She says it's weak to stutter.

My father, however, continues to smile at me. "Great. Come on." He says, nodding to the wide stairs behind him. He begins to walk, and I follow him up the steps, my mother on my heels. "It's not decorated fully yet. I thought you might wanna do that yourself."